


The Siren's Song

by The_Lady_Ren



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Brief Smut, F/M, fisherman, mermaid au, slightly nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9699389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_Ren/pseuds/The_Lady_Ren
Summary: A lonely fisherman encounters a mermaid





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi readers!  
> I received this prompt on my Tumblr blog (the-lady-ren) and I thought I would share it all with you as it is rather long and I think it turned out well.  
> It's a self contained one shot and I have no plans to carry it past this one chapter. However, any and all constructive feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading, please check out my other works as well!

The dream was happening again…deep green all around, shafts of sunlight like curtains fluttering in the deep. And that voice, all encompassing, hypnotizing, penetrating. Like a choir of blessed children. Kylo wakes in the pre-dawn greyness, rubbing his eyes, hitting the alarm clock with a fumbling hand. When the piercing alarm stops he sits up, raking thick fingers through bed messy hair and sighs. How many times had he had that same dream now? Six, seven? Unusual, certainly. Kylo couldn’t remember a time when he remembered any of his dreams, let alone having recurring dreams. Swinging his long legs over the sagging side of the narrow bed, he places bare feet on the floor, rising up and out of bed to get ready for the day.  
This morning is cold, the kind of cold that numbs you to your bones, freezing the mucus in your nose and making you cough with the first breath you take outside. He pads around the small apartment, the worn wood floor numbing his large feet as he pulls on the clothes that will hopefully keep him warm for the rest of his long day. At sea the wind will be more biting so layers are important. Base layer, fitting close to the skin, thermals, then thick, flannel lined jeans, topping this with a scratchy wool sweater. Pulling sturdy wool socks onto his feet he presses the adhesive backing of packaged foot warmers against the bottom of his feet then shoves them into thick soled, salt encrusted boots. By now the coffee will be ready, the timer set the night before. Kylo heads to the kitchen and, pulling the steaming pot from its cradle in the machine, pours the liquid energy into a steel thermos. Grabbing the large cooler full of sustenance for the day, Kylo leaves the apartment, heading down the sidewalk and down to the marina where his boat is docked.  
Everyday he makes this walk, the salt wind hitting his face, blowing his hair beneath the wool beanie he wears, he thinks. Thinks about her face, the planes of her warm body pressed against his while they lay in bed together. The press of her lips, the smell of her hair. The pang in his chest reminds him that he is alive, regardless of what his mind would like to believe. That’s why he runs these memories over and over and over in his thoughts, so he can feel something, even if it hurts. It’s better than the numbing, biting cold that has filled his soul since the accident. Since coincidence and circumstance ripped her away from him forever. Sighing he hitches his pack higher up onto his shoulder and steps onto the rocking dock that runs alongside his boat. Stepping onto the deck he stares at the sky. The cloud cover is thick today, and deep deep grey, despite the rising of the sun. This, the wind and the sharp chop of the sea indicates a storm may be at hand. Better check the weather on the radio.  
Sliding open the door of the Captain’s cabin with a rusty squeal, Kylo twists the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life. Flipping and twisting switches and knobs, he gets the heat going and turns on the radio to listen to the weather report. It doesn’t bode well for an entire day of fishing, but maybe if he gets in a few hours he can make up the portion of his rent he’s missing. Once everything is relatively warm he steps out and unties the rope that hitches the boat to the dock. A gentle push on the throttle and the boat pulls away, heading out to sea.  
Chugging along, Kylo sips on black coffee from his thermos, mindlessly chewing an egg sandwich from his cooler. His thoughts turn to the dream again, that haunting, lilting voice. He wonders if it’s her, calling to him from wherever she is now. It wouldn’t be the first time that joining her crossed his mind. All he’d need to do is jump off the side of the boat, close his eyes, let his heavy boots carry him into the darkness. But somehow he keeps going. She wouldn’t want him to come to her that way. Inhaling sharply, willing the tears that prick his eyes back, he scans the horizon for where he’ll drop anchor for a while, casting his net and hoping for something to come into it, something he can sell at market. His fish finder has broken and with the money gone he has been unable to fix it or get a new one. Relying on instinct isn’t getting him anywhere, but he has been able to somehow make ends meet. It’s just him anyway, one lone man. He doesn’t need much to keep him going.  
Settling in a spot, Kylo pulls on gloves and a balaclava to protect his face from the sharp needle of the wind. He lowers the anchor down and steps out onto the deck, making sure to slide the cabin door closed to keep in the heat as he decides where to cast his nets. Along the port side today seems right. After the cast he circles the deck, checking knots, making sure pumps and pulleys are in good working order. On a warm day he’ll oil everything, retie knots, just general maintenance. Lately it’s been too cold to stay outside for too long to take care of these things. Making his way belowdecks he does what he can before heading back up to the Captain’s cabin to sit and wait, contemplating the horizon before it’s time to pull back the nets and head in. He’ll have to keep a close eye on the weather today to make sure he gets back to shore before the storm settles in.  
Sitting on the chair in the warm cabin, Kylo, despite his better judgement, nods off to sleep, lulled by the rocking of the boat. His hardened face softens in his sleep, full lips relaxed as his chin meets his chest. The hand wrapped around his coffee cup relaxes and lets go, spilling the brown fluid in a stream against the painted floor. His mind, relaxed finally, echoes with the song that has been haunting his dreams. Time passes until suddenly he is awakened with a jolt. The sea has gotten much more rough with the oncoming storm and Kylo’s small boat is tossed amongst the waves. He gets up, frantically yanking open the door and turning on the winch to reel in the nets. Stupid, he thinks, to have fallen asleep. How long was he out? His brain is fuzzy around the edges with sleep as he taps his foot, waiting for the nets to come back in. He’ll have to put the engine into overdrive to get back to shore now. He shakes his head, disappointed in himself.  
The boat rocks and dips, causing Kylo’s stomach to lurch despite his long months spent at sea. Nearly losing his balance, he makes his way to the edge of the port side to see how much he’s got before the net is fully reeled in. It’s nearly there, he can almost make out the shape of it below the surface of the sea. Finally it surfaces, only a few fish jumping and starting within its grasp. He pulls it onto the deck, empties the fish into the well and raises the anchor, nearly running as he stumbles back to the cabin to turn tail and get home before the sea gets much worse.  
The sky roils as the sea sways, tossing Kylo’s small boat side to side and up and down as he cranks the wheel, seeking to gain some sort of purchase in the churning sea. Waves crash against the sides as briny water washes over the sides of the deck, salty foam swirling over the wood boards. Kylo’s heart hammers in his chest as adrenaline burns its way through his veins, sharpening his vision and making his reflexes lighting fast. Despite his best efforts it seems as if at any moment the sea will overtake him. Fear rises up in his throat when he finally sights land along the horizon. Relief washes over him and he relaxes for a brief moment. It’s a moment too long as an enormous wave washes over the boat, knocking Kylo off balance. As he falls back, arms flailing as he tries to regain his balance his head strikes the thick plank of wood that the broken fish finder is bolted to. Everything goes black and he falls like a tree, hard and fast to the floor, legs splayed wide.  
Soft swaying stalks within the green, the song…calling to him, ringing in his ears, bringing a smile to his long frowning mouth. Kylo moans in his unconscious daze, fingers feeling for warmth, something to hold onto. He’s been so lost…  
The sun is shining through the grimed windows of the cabin as Kylo’s eyes flutter open. A cracking sensation fills his head as his hand goes to the back of his skull, rubbing the hard knot there, fingers feeling through his black hair, pressing the edges, checking for blood. His eyebrows come together in concern as he inspects his fingers, and, seeing no blood there, rises to his feet, holding his aching head in his hands. The boat is just about at the dock, rocking softly in the wake of the storm. Kylo scans the deck for damage and, surprisingly finds none. He guides it into the dock and jumps off, securing the knots that keep it in place. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a bare arm sticking out of the small stairway that leads below decks. Alarmed, he turns, rushing towards the outstretched arm that is attached to a naked female, unconscious and draped on the stairs. A very tall female, with thick blonde hair that falls in drying waves to her waist. Kylo places his hand on her shoulder gently and shakes, attempting to wake her.  
“Hello, miss?” Kylo says, his voice shaking. The sun is piercing, hurting his aching head. He clears his throat and taps her again. With an unsteady hand his fingers move to her throat, inexpertly checking for a pulse. It’s there, strong, her life’s blood flowing beneath his fingers with every beat. Shrugging he pulls a wool blanket from the emergency pack and, wrapping it around her, hoists her long, chilled body over his shoulder. Darting his eyes from side to side, he makes his way back to his apartment, the dead weight of the blonde woman’s body making no difference to Kylo’s strong, sturdy frame.  
He enters the apartment and flicks on the light, hastily making his way to the living room where he gently lowers the woman onto the couch. Lord, but she is tall, nearly as tall as Kylo himself, and his height, though not abnormal, is a rarity. Her pale skin is cold and he rushes into the bedroom, pulling out blanket after blanket to pile on top of her. Wrapping her snugly he heads to the kitchen and puts on the kettle, pulling a big mug down from the shelf and placing two tea bags within. Fumbling though his sparse cupboards he grabs soup cans, a variety, and places them on the counter. He’s not quite sure why he brought this woman home instead of calling an ambulance, but something told him not to, and Kylo was always one to follow his gut.  
He goes back into the living room to check on her and, sliding his hand beneath the blanket feels her skin. It’s warming and her face is turning a healthier shade. The pink is coming back to her lips and as he watches her breathing, her eyes flutter, thick blonde lashes opening wide to reveal eyes the color of the sea during a calm summer day. A pink flush colors her cheeks and she blinks, her brow furrowing with confusion. “It’s you.” She says, her voice ringing like the soft tolling of a bell.  
Kylo pulls back as if burned at her words. “What did you say?” he asks, the shock in his voice coming through, making it waiver with uncertainty. The blonde woman smiles and she stretches, languidly, as if he didn’t just pull her naked and near frozen from his boat.  
“I said it’s you. I’m surprised to see you is all.” Her voice is clipped, almost British sounding, at least to his ear. Kylo steps back, almost frightened. “Let me get you some warm clothes,” he says nervously, dashing towards the bedrooms. Fumbling through the closet he finds some warm pajama pants and a sweatshirt that looks like it will fit her. Grabbing a ball of wool socks from a drawer he returns to the living room to find her standing, a blanket wrapped around her elegantly, like a ball gown. He coughs nervously, announcing his return and she turns, gracefully, long hair flowing behind her.  
“Thank you,” she says, taking the clothing from him. Her long arms sway like a ballerina’s as she points to the closed bathroom door. “Is that your…” she pauses, searching for the right term, “bathing room?” She tosses her head back towards him, waiting for his response. Kylo stumbles over his words, swallowing hard.  
“Yes,” he chokes finally. “Would you like to take a shower? Warm up?” He rakes his hair back, knocking the beanie off of his head and it falls to the floor, forgotten as he stares agog at the tall beauty before him. She smiles and nods as he leads her to the room, opening the door for her as she floats past him, smiling that enigmatic smile and closing the door behind her. Kylo falls heavily onto the couch, his thoughts whirling as he tries to piece together what happened after he fell unconscious. Broken images and ghosts of memories circle though his mind. From the bathroom he can hear the tub filling, the water rushing into the cast iron. Fortunately this apartment is old and has a huge old tub, left from some time before when this was a grand old seaside home instead of sad, lonely apartments divided by paper thin walls.  
Closing his eyes, his thick fingers rubbing his aching temples, Kylo inhales deeply, and exhales, stress leaving his body as a sound reaches his ears, making him stand at attention, rising to his full height. The singing…the haunting, lilting voice from his dreams is coming from his bathroom. Without a thought he closes the distance with three long strides and bursts through the door, finding the woman he’s brought here lounging in the tub, steam rising to the ceiling. She is washing her long hair and singing as she does so. His eyes open wide as his mouth drops open, taking in the sight of her smiling and singing in the tub. Clutching his broad chest in shock, he settles on the impossible, a long, shining silver tail reaching out of the water, broad fins flopping over the sides.  
“You’re a…” he gasps, his mouth trying to form the word but it refuses to come out.  
“A mermaid?” The woman says, finishing his sentence for him. “Yes, I guess that’s what you humans would call me,” She smiles enticingly. A long arm reaches out and she beckons Kylo towards her. As if moving in a dream he responds, his long legs moving towards the tub. Dunking her head under the water, tail coming further out of the tub, flashing in the light of the dirty bulb, she rinses her hair and rises up. “My name is Phasma, Kylo. And I’ve had my eye on you for a long time.”  
Kylo falls to his knees, confused, frightened, but drawn to her side. “What do you mean?” he whispers, his shoulders slumping forward as he comes to rest by the edge of the tub. She brushes his hair from his eyes with long fingers, curling it back around his ear.  
“Your sadness, Kylo. It calls to me. That lonely, empty keening of your heart. When you’re at sea…it beckons to me. I’ve been trying to respond, but you seem…unreachable. Until today, that is. Your life was in danger, so I saved you.” Phasma arches her long neck back and that voice comes peeling out of her throat again, making Kylo’s heart beat with a longing he didn’t know he could feel anymore.  
“Is that you in my dreams?” He asks softly, cautiously. He almost doesn’t want it hear the response.  
Phasma nods, her lips curling into a sweet and beautiful smile. “It is,” she answers. Sitting up, her full breasts rising from the steaming bath she reaches for him, wrapping her arms around his thick torso and pulling him in for a long, passionate kiss. Kylo gives in, though his head is swimming with confusion.  
Hours later and they are laying in bed together. Phasma’s skin has dried and her scales and fins have receded, leaving behind long, human legs. At this time she has these legs wrapped around Kylo’s waist as he pumps into her, breathlessly hanging over her. All the while, that calm, beautiful smile dances upon her lips. Kylo’s black hair, damp with perspiration hangs over his forehead. He can’t even form thoughts at this point, his life has taken such a sudden and strange turn. This gorgeous woman in his bed who, only a little while ago was a gorgeous mermaid in his tub. The storm, the knock on his head…it’s all so odd and so strange. Her voice comes climbing out of her as her cunt clenches down on his cock, languidly, smoothly singing in her climax. A few more thrusts and Kylo groans, falling beside her, his strong arm wrapped around her flat stomach, pulling her close to him in his narrow, lonely bed. As if in a dream he nuzzles close, sleep already overcoming his exhausted body. “How long can you stay?” He murmurs into her bare shoulder. “Not much longer, my love. Soon it will be time for both of us to go.” She says in response, curling into him.  
It is days later and the police pry the door open. No one has seen the fisherman in days, which is unusual, especially when his boat has been washed up on the shore since after the storm that blew through. He’s usually so fastidious, though quiet and keeps to himself. The first thing they notice is wet footprints leading from the bedroom to the door they’ve just entered into. Large, bare prints. They seem fresh, as if someone just walked across the floor after leaving the tub. The head officer puts up one finger, warning his team to be quiet, be wary and to follow his lead. They nod in response and tip toe behind him, careful not to trudge through the footprints, lest they damage evidence. Creeping along, they examine the bathroom. It is full of steam and the large, claw foot tub is wet as if it has just been drained. Taking great care they tip toe down the hall to the single bedroom. The door stands ajar and they call out, “Kylo Ren? Are you in there? This is the police. There has been some concern for you, sir.” No response. Pushing the door open slowly, the lead officer enters the bedroom and, finding what they are looking for, orders his men to stand down.  
There, in the bed, is the fisherman. By the looks of it, he’s been dead for a few days, his pale skin turning blue with the chill in the room. Those wet footprints are here as well, although when the medical examiner finally comes and examines the dead man, he’ll find a large knot at the back of his head and signs of a severe concussion. The death will be ruled accidental, and they’ll shake their heads. Should have gone to the hospital, they’ll say. That was quite a knock to the head. But no one will be able to explain the steamy bathroom, the footprints that, when examined by the forensics team will be determined to have belonged to a woman, a very tall woman. Even though the whole town knew that the fisherman’s wife died long ago, and that’s why he moved here, to escape his past.  
And the smile on the fisherman’s lips…the sense of peace and calm about the body. They’ll haunt the medical examiner until his last days, the lonely smiling fisherman. Did he see his wife finally, at the end? Or was it something else? Something as unexplainable as those wet footprints leading out of the house.


End file.
